


Nesting

by Brighid



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: Other, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:31:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brighid/pseuds/Brighid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rainy day, pineapple blends and Babylon Five lead to warm fuzzies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nesting

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to two people: Mona for many reasons, 

## Nesting

by Brighid

Author's disclaimer: All things Sentinel belong to Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and a few Dark Entities. This is not for profit, but for love. 

and Merri-Todd Webster who accidentally kick-started my muse with a mis-posted discussion thread. She mentioned talking about things we'd like to see on the telly if people weren't squicked by same-sex couples, and mentioned cuddling in bed, like on Mad About You. This resulted. Um, I rated this PWP, but it's not a caliente PWP -- just a scene, really. = ) 

* * *

Nesting  
by Brighid 

It was his first Saturday off in weeks, and it was raining so hard the skylights in the loft rattled ominously from the onslaught. Still half-asleep and a trifle cranky with it, Jim Ellison peered into the fridge, searching in vain for something to drink. "Christ, Sandburg, do we have any juice that _isn't_ blended with pineapple?" he groused, shutting the heavy old door with more force than was necessary. 

Blair glanced up at him from where he sat on the living room floor, surrounded by a sea of videotapes. "There's orange concentrate in the freezer, big guy. Low acid, in deference to your sensitive taste buds," the younger man replied, returning his attention to the rather scrupulous labeling process he was undertaking. 

Jim made a faintly disgusted noise as he pulled out the plastic juice pitcher from the cupboard and went about mixing the concentrate. "What the hell's with all the pineapple juice, anyway, Chief? You know I hate the stuff!" He heard the amused snort of his Guide. 

"That, my friend, is the point. Last time I bought myself juice, you hoovered the stuff down so fast I never even got a taste. I'm just trying for a fighting chance, here." Blair got up and walked over to stand beside Jim, took the fresh poured glass out of his Sentinel's hand and took a long swig out of it, his eyes bright with laughter. "What's with the juice fetish, man? Usually you suck back coffee first thing." 

Jim shrugged. "It's wet, I'm pretty much housebound for the day. Don't need to get going anywhere, didn't feel like getting all revved up on caffeine. You got a problem with that?" he demanded, his voice low and growly, and Blair laughed at him again and stood up on tip-toe and kissed him and he tasted the orange juice he had yet to drink and it tasted good, even better in Blair's mouth. He started to lean into the kiss, thinking, yeah, this is a good way to spend a rainy day, but the younger man pulled away and walked back over to his pile of videotapes. 

"No problem. And there's a carton of mango-blend in the cupboard, if you want to put it in to chill for the day," Blair said, sitting down lotus on the floor and beginning to write in his small, spidery script on the video labels. 

Jim opened the cabinet and growled an expletive at the not one but three cartons of mango blend juice he liked. "You sonovabitch. Why is the drinkable stuff in the cupboard and your pineapple crap in the fridge, and why the hell didn't you tell me before I mixed the orange juice?" he demanded, hauling out a carton and setting it in the freezer to chill it faster. 

He could almost feel the 'whuff' of air as Blair laughed at him. "I just wanted to see your muscles work while you stirred with the wooden spoon?" the younger man offered with a mock leer, and laughed again as Jim flipped him off and turned back to the counter to cut open a bagel for toasting. 

A few minutes later, bagel covered in cream cheese and jam and juice glass full again, Jim wandered out into the living room, sat down on the couch and proceeded to eat his breakfast. "What's with all the tapes?" he said around a mouthful, gesturing towards the rather large pile with his glass of juice. 

Blair stopped what he was doing and looked up at Jim. "What happened to the 'no-eating in the living room' thing?" he asked instead. 

Jim shrugged. "What happened to the whole "One week, two weeks tops, man!" thing," Jim countered, smiling slightly, and Blair smiled back at him and Jim tore off a bit of bagel and passed it over to his Guide. They were quiet for a moment, just chewing and listening to the rain and it was, surprisingly, a very good day. "The tapes, Darwin?" Jim reminded him gently, at last. 

Blair looked down at the 11 or 12 tapes he had sorted out around him. "Oh, the tapes. Well, there's this really great series they've been repeating on the Sci-Fi channel, Babylon 5. Best SF ever, man. Totally epic, Homeric in proportion, really. Great storylines, incredible continuity, special effects to die for. Harlan Ellison is one of the concept designers." Blair took a deep breath, and Jim could see the next thirty minutes looming in front of him and so held up his hand and started laughing. 

"Okay, Chief, okay. I understand. Great stuff, best stuff ever, you've got a jones for the show and it's stolen your heart from Trek. Still doesn't explain why you're sitting there with a bunch of tapes." He finished the last of his bagel and slipped off the couch to sit beside Blair. 

His Guide leaned over and placed a kiss on his shoulder. "I taped it all, man, the whole series. Didn't miss an ep. I'm just making sure I've got everything labeled right, so you don't go taping, like, a Jags game or Hollywood Squares over it," Blair explained, throwing a look a Jim that was amusement and annoyance commingled. 

"Hey," the bigger man protested with righteous indignation. "Hey! I did not tape Hollywood Squares. I just set the timer early so I wouldn't miss any of the movie that came on after!" Blair's rolled eyes were eloquent in the extreme, and Jim thwacked him lightly upside the head. "Besides which, it's your own damned fault for having a stack of unlabeled tapes _this_ high," Jim made a gesture some three feet off the floor, "by the television. Why the hell you're taping X-Files anyway, I have no clue. It's in permanent syndication, and plays on three different stations every day. You've seen every episode so often you ought to have them memorized!" 

"Ellison, you just keep unfolding like a flower," Blair misquoted with glee. "I thought you didn't like the show. How come you know how often it's on?" 

"I don't like the show," Jim retorted. "Their procedure sucks and they focus way too much on the whiny guy when the real meat of the show is the A.D." Blair shouted with laughter at that, and pulled down his Sentinel's head to kiss the thinning spot on the crown. 

"You are such a magnificent idiot, you know that?" Blair said admiringly, and Jim pushed aside the tapes and kissed him thoroughly, so thoroughly that the young anthropologist forgot Shadow Wars and government conspiracies for a few minutes. 

At last Blair pulled back and licked his lips. "You know, for some reason I've got a sudden craving for a bagel with cream cheese and jam." Jim thwacked him again and got up off the floor to make the younger man breakfast. 

He heard Blair begin stacking up the now-labeled tapes behind them, setting them with care in the video safe he had bought the younger man after the whole Hollywood Squares fiasco, and moving over into the kitchen to join him. "How many shows is that you've got taped, there, Chief? You've got all the Treks, Sharpe's Rifles, Alien Nation and now Babylon 5. That's a lot of video tape for a guy who used to live out of a backpack." 

Blair leaned up against him, putting an arm around his waist. "Yeah, I know. Funny, huh? It's not like the shows are going anywhere, like I can't just watch 'em whenever. It's just, I guess, a form of nesting for me, y'know? Knowing I have them when I want them, knowing they're there. Like comfort food." He pressed a kiss into Jim's side, and the bigger man had to set down the knife, he felt it that deep down. "Like you," the younger man added, and Jim turned and just hugged him hard, so hard they both saw stars. 

"I've got an idea," Jim whispered against the top of Blair's head, and he felt the younger man smile against his chest. 

"Yeah?" Blair's voice was muffled, but happy, and Jim kissed him again and held him away a bit to place a third kiss on his mouth. 

"Yeah," the older man confirmed. "Go have a shower, and c'mon up to the bedroom after. Give me at least twenty minutes to get things ready, okay?" he asked, shoving the younger man towards the bathroom even as he spoke. 

Blair paused in the doorway. "I, like, _so_ love you, man," he said softly, and Jim smiled at him and it was all the answer Blair seemed to need before shutting the door. 

* * *

Jim heard Blair as he took the loft stairs two at a time, and looked up to see him swathed in his robe and toweling his hair off. The younger man stopped suddenly on the top stair, and almost toppled backwards in surprise. "What the hell?" 

Jim glanced around at what had so startled his Guide. He was in the bed, stripped down to boxers and T-shirt, with pretty much every pillow in the house propping up his back. He waved at Blair with the hand holding the television remote. A few feet away from the foot of the bed, the television and VCR that he had hauled up the stairs and set up were playing the few opening scenes of the Babylon 5 premiere movie. The bed tray he had picked up after Blair had been shot in the leg a few years ago was on the floor by Blair's side of the bed, loaded with a couple of bagels, a small pot of herbal tea and a glass of juice. 

"I thought," said Jim, "that you might like a comfort day. It's crappy out, I don't feel like housework, and you say this show's good, so I figured ... why not?" He held his breath, just a little, in anticipation. 

A slow smile suffused his Guide's face, and Jim let the breath out in a silent 'whoosh'. "This is so cool, man," Blair said happily, tightening the robe around his waist and climbing into the bed beside his Sentinel. He handed the older man the towel. "You may dry my hair," he said magnanimously. 

Jim took the towel and carefully began removing the excess wet from Sandburg's curls. "Thanks so very much," he said, trying to be sarcastic and not really succeeding. Blair was still warm from the shower, and made little contented noises as he settled in against Jim, and the older man knew that this had been a very good idea. 

* * *

The sun had long since set, and Blair was resting drowsily against Jim's shoulder, adding a quiet-voiced commentary to the action on the screen. The bed was rumpled and rucked up, and there were dirty tea mugs on the bedside tables, but Jim had taken the rest of their dishes down and set them to soak hours ago. The episode came to an end, and Jim hit the stop on the remote. The soft hiss of static filled the loft for a few minutes. 

"You're right, Sandburg, that's a damned good show. Although that Sinclair guy reminds me of one of those stupid Thunderbird puppets," Jim offered at last. 

Blair snorted with sudden laughter and turned in Jim's arms so that his face was against the older man's chest. "Man, you are so right. I wondered why he always seemed so familiar." He stayed quiet against Jim for a moment before beginning to press a series of little kisses against the bigger man's chest. Jim glanced down, pulled him up so that their mouths met, and they kissed slowly, softly, a bit sleepily. 

"This is nice," Blair said at last, into Jim's mouth, and Jim licked his lips gently, nuzzled down the side of his face. 

"I like you nesting with me," he admitted, smilingly. "I'm glad you tape all those shows and hide my juice and ... oh, hell," he said, sitting bolt upright in the bed and almost dumping Sandburg completely off. 

"What? What?" Blair demanded, scrambling up, grabbing Jim's hand before the larger man could smack himself in the forehead. 

"The juice," Jim replied, and seeing Blair's confusion, sighed. "I left the carton in the freezer, and I'm willing to bet the damned thing's popped its carton." 

Blair just laughed at him, and then grabbed both his shoulders and pinned him to the bed. "It'll keep," he said, and he leaned in and kissed Jim again; this time there was nothing sleepy about it. Jim kissed him back, hard, and the soft grey of the day flared up into brilliance. Some small, whiny part of his brain yammered about the possible mess in his freezer, but he told it ruthlessly to shut up. They were busy nesting. The damned juice would keep until morning. 

And it did. 

An end. 

* * *

End Nesting. 


End file.
